


Junjou Blood Type

by risquetendencies



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: M/M, My Creative Titles Are Always Creative, blood types, couples' fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All couples. Nowaki, Akihiko, and Shinobu wish to know their respective partner's blood types. Silly Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junjou Blood Type

Geez, was this some kinky new type of foreplay, or something? Because it sure was weird.

Misaki was beginning to mistrust the eager gleam in Akihiko's eye, and the way he kept determinedly _stroking_ and _tugging_ on just one of his fingers, making it feel warm and grow a pinker red at the tip than the others surrounding it. Against his will, of course, it reminded him of other similar actions, and the youth cautiously peered up from under his eyelashes, checking to see if Usagi-san had any perverted intentions written on his countenance.

At first when he gave him the glance-over, it didn't seem so. The older man was merely contemplative, apparently focused on his task. But why was Usagi-san doing it anyway?

A few minutes ago, the author had arrived home, and had called Misaki down from where he was studying in his bedroom. He had asked the boy to hold out one hand for him, and though he was a little wary, he had ultimately done as asked. Once he had, Usagi-san had started doing that with his finger, and still had neglected to tell him what it was about.

"Um, Usagi-san... what's going on here... exactly?"

"You'll find out in a minute."

The elder surveyed him carefully for a moment, and then sly lips twisted into a smirk. "Though, why do you ask, Misaki? Does me doing this bring up any memories you'd like to share? Any memories you'd like to... repeat? Please, say what's on your mind," he purred encouragingly.

"In your dreams!" Misaki muttered under his breath. Even so, he didn't look away. Those violet eyes held a magnetic sway over him; the more he struggled, the more he ended up falling back into the man's arms.

"I would enjoy that immensely, Misaki, but as of now, I'm far more interested in reality."

The author moved in quickly, and he broke. Ravenous lips propelled forward to claim his, and despite his best attempts, a hot tongue managed to probe its insistent way into his mouth. Misaki burned bright red, feeling the other man's tongue touch his tip, trying to incite him. He relented, and fought only minimally as Akihiko embraced him, telling himself that while he may allow this, he wasn't going to go any further!

He wasn't enjoying this, after all, and he wouldn't let Usagi-san sweep him away again!

"Mmm- Ow!"

Misaki pulled away hastily, and stared, dumbfounded, as he processed a sudden stab of pain. How dare the man distract him so he could swoop in and do such a thing!

His finger, which was beginning to sting as the puncture met with the air. Usagi started pressing the digit again, milking it for fluid. A plump bead of scarlet trickled slowly from the wound at Akihiko's urging, and Misaki watched it wide-eyed, as if it weren't happening to him. It was a shock to the senses to watch himself bleed, even if he knew it was from something benign.

"What the hell?! Usagi-san, did you poke me? How did you do that? Never mind! _Why_ did you poke me?"

"We are going to find out your blood type, Misaki. I have a kit waiting in the kitchen."

"You have a _what_ waiting in the kitchen?"

"A blood type analysis kit. It's proven to be effective, so come along before you stop bleeding, or I'll have to poke you again. First though..." A drew a card out of his trouser pocket and held it up to Misaki. "Smear a little on here, for each of the three bubbles."

Unfortunately for the scheming rabbit, Misaki was still stuck on the knowledge that he had been tricked, so Akihiko took the lead and swiped the card against the youth's lightening finger, gleaning a drop for each of three circles printed on the analysis card. He then towed a very disoriented Misaki into the kitchen, where three labeled bottles were spread out on the counter: _Anti-A_ , _Anti-B_ , and _Anti-D_.

Misaki honestly hadn't even known they sold blood typing kits, but trust Usagi-san to uncover a way to get his paws on one! With his ever-doomed luck, the kit had probably been ridiculously expensive as well as disposable, meaning the man frivolously wasted money on something that wouldn't last.

Akihiko set the card down on the surface next to the array of serums, and picked one up at random, selecting the bubble with the matching label and adding one drop of solution to the blood smear. He worked meticulously, repeating the process until all three were properly diluted.

Then, using a toothpick, he stirred each mixture a little, using a different stick for each. Misaki was surprised at his care, but then again, Usagi was what one could call a relentless individual when he had his mind set on something. Misaki didn't know that much about science but he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to use the same toothpick for each because it'd ruin it.

"Look at them, Misaki, can you see? The red pigment in this one means that it's your type."

"Type A?"

"Yes," the older male confirmed.

"Oh well, I guess that's cool to know! So, is it your turn now?"

"No. I have known mine for many years, and... I am pleased to say that you and I are a perfectly eligible match, Misaki."

Misaki pinkened further yet kept quiet, emerald irises connecting with light purple as he sought the elder's gaze. It wasn't that something like that could really make him happy, but in a way it did. He wasn't in love with Usagi-san, but to be compatible was a nice feeling all the same. He even briefly considered saying something to that effect, at least until he heard the next words that emerged from the author.

"Misaki, the cut has stopped bleeding, do you want me to lick you clean?"

"Gah! IN YOUR _DREAMS_ , PERVERT USAGI!"

 

* * *

 

Hiroki had been suspicious from the very second his partner had asked for him to hold out his hand, his keen senses concentrated on uncovering the hidden motive behind this request. It was possible that Nowaki had just wanted to hold his hand, and in fact he seriously considered that option first, but at the same time, it seemed like a strange timing for hand-holding, given he'd just made his way through the door after work.

No, Nowaki clearly wanted something else, and the professor was determined to figure out what it was, and how it boded for him.

The man in question pulled a small cap-looking device from his pants pocket, and offered it up for Hiroki's stare.

"What is that?"

"Relax, this is a disposable lancet. They work very quickly, with just a push of the button, and prick your finger. Take a nice breath in-"

At this disclosure Hiroki jumped suddenly, yanking his hand away at the proper moment, and took it back, clutching the limb against his chest as if he had been grievously wounded, and looked on the younger man with undisguised horror. He had half a mind to back up a few steps, as well, if he didn't implicitly trust in his partner, or in his ability to make a quick get-away if necessary.

"JUST WHAT do you think you're doing, brat?"

"It won't hurt Hiro-san, I promise!"

"LIES, ALL LIES! WHAT IS THE NEEDLE FOR THEN, HUH?"

"I want to get a small blood sample. I've done it a hundred times, so I'll get it right away. You won't feel pain."

"Is this another one of your crazy fantasies, Nowaki? Going to hang a vial of my blood around your neck or some nonsense? I do not consent!"

"Hiro-san, that's really odd, and I don't know where you heard that... I was merely going to find out your blood type for you, because a while ago you said you had never found out what it was. And, perhaps we could compare! To see if we're compatible!" Nowaki's face hinted at a grin, and Hiroki looked on suspiciously.

 _Of course_ it would be something like that. Another romantic, embarrassing dream. Checking the compatibility of blood types was an an activity more suited to giggling middle-school girls, not professional adult men!

He peered straight ahead, his brow furrowing in exasperation.

"Realistically, medically, what are blood types, Nowaki?"

"Oh, they're what type of antigen you have on the surface of your red blood cells, Hiro-san. If a person has type A, that means they have A-antigens. O means no antigens, and so on. Also, if you have a certain type of antigen, you have the opposite letter kind of antibody in the plasma content of your blood. Type B would pair with A-antibodies, for example. These are important in case you need a blood transfusion, because the donor has to be compatible with the recipient, otherwise the cells will turn on each other and fight, causing various problems, including potential renal failure, and-"

"Exactly!" Hiroki cut him off. "That's all they are, not some lovey dovey thing to compare like idiots do with their zodiac signs. It's not romantic, and thus I don't see why you're so anxious to find out what my blood type is."

"On the contrary, I think being connected with Hiro-san is _very_ romantic. And this is just one way we could be."

"You won't be doing much 'connecting' later tonight if you come at me with that needle thing again."

He eyed the younger man sternly over his shoulder, showing him that he was perfectly serious. To his relief, this seemed to have the desired effect, because Nowaki sighed as if giving up the ghost, and squeezed Hiroki tighter into his arms, indicating that his interests were now sufficiently distracted.

"If that's what you want, Hiro-san, then I will stop." There was a silent agreement between the two though, that 'stop' did not in any way affect what may or may not transpire between them in the sanctity of their shared bedroom before sleep hit.

**. . . . .**

As it happened though, a week later, the professor had found himself sitting in his physician's office for a routine checkup, and there was, of all blasted things, a blood draw involved in the process. He would have thought that Nowaki had planned this if he hadn't made the assignation himself last month, and if his doctor didn't always try to sample his blood at each of their appointments.

All in all though, the coincidence had the ring of a death knell, signaling the end of his ability to resist this whimsy, and Hiroki decided then and there that if he was going to be poked anyway, he may as well get everything out of it that he could, such as finding out his blood type at long last. The inclination overshadowed the rest of his visit, but in the end his doctor had confirmed that he was in perfect working condition, and sent him on his way.

Hiroki waited a block or two outside of the office before pulling his results out of the envelope they came in, reading through them carefully.

...Nowaki and he had the same type. Go figure.

Hiroki shoved the smile that was threatening to break loose back into the abyss where it originated from, and resolutely began to walk home. He wouldn't tell the big lug, but he was considering leaving the paper out on the kitchen counter. Just you know, because that was a good place for it. A convenient place, easier than walking to the other side of the kitchen to throw it in the trash bin. It wasn't that he wanted Nowaki to see it, or anything ridiculous like that.

Yes, convenience, strictly speaking, was the only reason at all for that decision.

 

* * *

 

"Fork over the results, Miyagi, I know you have them hidden behind your back."

Currently, Miyagi Yoh, 35, found himself staring down the stormy gaze of a terrorist on a mission.

It was like any other day of his life for the past year; as precarious, as intimidating, as positively adorable. The older man was hard pressed to continue resisting, with Shinobu making a face such as that one, imploring for his cooperation. It made him want to give the youth the world on a platter, the moon on a string, if he asked for those. He had to be crazy to find that angry, pink visage endearing, but it didn't alter the fact that he did.

Still, he couldn't hand over the blood type results, either, for equally important reasons.

He didn't want the youth to find out that their types were different, or even worse, that they weren't compatible. Due to previous negative experiences with zodiacs, elemental signs, and other various comparative pop culture designations Miyagi knew the difference would depress Shinobu, and quite frankly, anything he could do to keep the boy happy was his top priority. Shinobu was always eager to find little signals such as those, because he treated them as further manifestations of how their love was fated to be.

With each cosmic thumbs-down, Shinobu grew more and more prickly, and Miyagi opined that this might be the final straw that finally broke the dam of emotion.

"Why don't we just seal this letter and stick it in... a time capsule! And then in fifty years we can open it and see what it said! Doesn't a time capsule sound like fun, Shinobu-chin? We can go find a nice park to bury it at, and then make a map to the spot. It will be an adventure, and isn't that many times more exciting than reading it now?"

"Be a man, and stop stalling. Give me the paper."

"Geez, all business with you, isn't it, brat? Young people like you are supposed to know how to have fun!"

"In fifty years you'll be so old and forgetful that you won't remember where you put the map, and neither one of us is going to want to go down to the park to retrieve the time capsule even if you did remember. I want to know _right now_ , so find your balls and hand it over." For emphasis, Shinobu put out one hand, flexing the fingers in a grabbing motion.

Miyagi inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the certain retribution this would incite. He freed the opened envelope from his back pocket and transferred it over to Shinobu, who eyed him once more before pulling the sheet of paper out of the envelope, and devoured it with his full attention.

Seconds later, the anger had washed away to be replaced by a forlorn expression that gnawed at the older man, who quickly scrambled to prepare the words that had been forming all this time into something that might salve the youth's sense of despair.

"We're... incompatible."

"I'm happy for that much."

"Why are you happy? If you got into an accident I couldn't give you a blood transfusion, because it would only clash! Do you even realize how that makes me feel?" As he had suspected, Shinobu was well on the way to becoming teary-eyed, and he intended to nip that in the bud as soon as possible.

"Whoa, there! I realize, and honestly, I appreciate that you would be willing to go to such lengths for my sake. Why I am happy, however, is because I wouldn't want you to give precious blood to me anyway, if that meant leeching it from you. I care about you more than I care about myself, so you keep your blood to yourself, all right? No need to make me worry like that."

He moved in closer, coming to rest a foot or two in front of his lover, and donned a light, yet firm, air.

"Apart from that, Shinobu-chin, I don't want you getting melancholy because of silly things like these from now on. If anything, it just goes to highlight the real driving force between us." Miyagi was speaking earnestly, so he hoped that the teen would listen to his ponderings.

"In case you weren't sure, that would be your determination, brat. It may be that fate played into it, but I'd have to say that if so, you gave fate a hell of a helping hand. It was you who ran after me, and just wouldn't give up, no matter how I tried to convince you otherwise. Right?"

"Sure. But it was fate, you know. Even if this stupid test says-"

"And that is all it is, Shinobu, just a test. It has no read on feelings. In my heart, you and I are extremely compatible."

"You're s-such a dork, old man."

He ran his fingers through his brat's hair fondly, assured that he was feeling happier now, if he had the guts to call him names. Shinobu flushed slowly, beginning at the apex of his ears, the warmth slowly spreading over his face. Miyagi leaned down and kissed the teen's upturned nose, a little out of affection, and a little out of wanting to know just how red he could get him to become.

"Oh, don't I know it..."


End file.
